THE AENEID, AN EPIC OF LOVE

A Sf2!nicr Hcner s Thesis

Presented to

the Faculty of the Division of Classics

Department of Eurcp0an Languanes I University of Hawaii

In Partial Fulfillment

of the Requirements for the Degree

Bachelor cf Arts with Honors

by

AUJustin LactaC'~?n

OUTLINE

I. Love themes in the Aeneid

II. The Odyssean Aeneid (I-VI)

III. The Iliadic Aeneid (VII-XII)

IV. Conclusion

Vir3i1* begins h1.8 great elic w:_th th.; E~ basic mcti£:·,

Beok I (1.) IIlE' s;:jC I qui c;ucnCiam::i-!:ac,ili mc~-:ulatus avsna Cdrm8n, et ~gressus silvis vicina coegi llt quamv i; dV ::"C-C ',')are,~: c::nt arva c( lcnc! gratum O:r:'llS agriculis, at nunc hOl'rentia Martis al-ma Pl. :urnqu:,;; can(, T:e, lae qui ~.c iItlUS a1: c .. f)

Italiam fate E::'rcfu JUS Lavinaque v:::nit litc:,:a - multum ille 'st t:';l.r..i..3 ja:::tatus ,~t alto vi dUrcrum, SdeVd memcrem Juncnis cb Learn, raul ta que;qu.:::: et .1:,)0110 passus, dum ccnC0:ret urb£:ml Lnfe~rctqu~ d00S L~tic - genus unda Latinctm Alban1.ql1e Fat!'~'3 atque altae mo?nia Rcmae.

c.f Rcme.

suffuss6 wtth it new sen;3it~.vitYI a nKvin:.:! narrativF~. He has,

vc:::y z.rtlstically, weven intc th'~ stc ry th,-: un,~l::r ljt2.nq thGm'~

V,, kt() Poschl,

It could as well be caller: th0

t e~~'ic c f love,' fer 1tS dee}Jest traJ8<1Y ..lS that ~ts pecple

'levee) teo much. • This lS true of Eu:t'yalus, of whcm the pcet

SayS (IX /'!?o) • ""J:...J • 'Inf~l::.C'em nimiurn ciJ:: ~ t ami cum , ; l.t is just

as trur~ cf June, V;?n11E, Turnus, D' c1c 2.n,~·! L~,tinu3

I Vlctu~-! amC·'(2 tui •.. vincla (IDILLa CUFl.') I (,j,nc (~E l:.mata,

., that /1..;;n,:'·d:"; dc.?s ~ It -!..

2

Ana in the As:neid. whc can forget the ricture cf the fall

cf T.rey> w.i th the ccnc,,="ntrated r;athc·g (f th,~: ,""lal ceath f

perhaps cne might say that the eFic is a pcem c·f humanity,

a symbol net only cf the tracV~;:Y in Reman hi;;:~to!:'Y, but _·,.n

Fc!' as l-rt schl

ccntErh.'::;: lIIn Vt~J:gil the .realm cf th~ sc>ul is rev:.:::ZJ.leC: "'lith a

tE:nCc:.:neS3 Clnd delicaC'y (:j: nuance: unrival,:;:;f c:.the( by Herner.

-'

the Claa:.;ical, CL the Hellenj.stic Gre2ks.1!-·

Vir] .Ll':3 :Jtcry .:.. S t'(lat of th;;.: cr?aticn '-. £ Cln~~pl·,. \.') I the

52..::n tc be ,-:.nact~(} })y in(ividuals. Anc. thereic. .::~_, human weak-

n;:sses and passicns, their hor:'?s an'-: cl!.'cams a:!.:"e an inteqral

; dl, t .; f th,::; - ama.

in ..::..

the H~2~' t .. II Fa t .. rn,=-l , hu.<rtuni ta. r ian I

3

the bearer of a sacred trust and the symbol of Rome's dedicated

role in man's destiny, is also Virgil's principal figure of

hwuanity and tenderness. 5 We get brief ~limpses into the more

human aspects of his character in his love fer his father and for

his son, in his love for Dido, in his fatherly pity for the younq

warrior Lausus whom he is unwillingly forced to kill. 6 However,

these flashes cf sentiment and scenes of warmth are by no means

limited to the hero alone as we shall discuss latAr in rl2·viewing

the twelve books of the .;\eneid.

The scheme of the Aeneid certainly corresponds very closely to

the schemes of both the Odessey and the Iliad, c("lmbining as it

were, the arrangements of each.7

tt In the first six books, lleneas, like C'dysseus, is shipwrecked, is directed to Dido's palace by a :-;-racious lady (Venus instead of Nausicaa), relates his adventures at a banquet, remains with a char.ming hostess (Dido in­stead of Calyrso), visits Hades, encounters a recentl~/

deceased comrade who asks to be buried (palinurus instead of Elpencr), meets an associate who refuses to talk to him (Dido instead of Ajax), is told by another comrade how he was murdered by the connivance of his wife (Deirhobus instead of Agamemnon), and recei'v'es a prophe~ cf thE~ future (from Anchises instead of Teiresias), !,I

tiThe last six books correspond to the Iliac, from which comes the battle scenes, the attack en the ships, the catalogue of chiefs, the divinely made arms, the funeral games, the broken truce, the midnight adventure cf Nisus and Euryalus (Diomedes and C~ysseus), the un­successful embassy to Diomedes (Achilles), the ('fuarrel between Turnus and Drances (A'Jamemnon ana i\chilles), the slaying of Pallas by Turnus (Patrocles by Hecter), the 0

final duel between Aeneas and Turnus U\chilles and HeC'tor) ."-

I

With this resume in mind, we can new proceed to the love motifs

which permeate the entire story.

4

with the unleashing of the storm in Book I, one sees the

scheme of fate, the opposition of Juno, the symbolic "furor"

with which Aeneas' "pietas" must contend. It is durin':J this

storm that Aeneas utters his first words in the whole epic.

Words Which give us our first insight into his character.

Book I (94) 0 terque quaterque beati, guis ante ora patrum Troiae sub moenibus altis contigit oppetere! 0 Danaum fortissime gentis Tydide! mene Iliacis OCC\Lware campis non potuisse tuaque animam hanc effundere dextra, saevus ubi Aeacidae telo jacet Hector, ubi ingens Sarpedon, ubi tot S~ois correpta sub undis scuta virum galeasque et £ortia corpcra volvit:

This passage is indeed a transformation of Odysseus' words

(Ody. 5. 306), but is it nothing more than just a auotation

from Homer? "Odysseus (;Jrieves because he must fcrego glory

and burial honors: he does not mention love. Aeneas' wish to

have died 'ante ura patrum' expresses not only lanling for

glory but also for love and warmth of home. The thought that

the presence of loved ones blunts the sting of oeath, is a

common motif in th,2; Aeneid. ,,10 Thus, Dido's death aiJony is

eased by her sister' s presence anc; by the '':jesture of release

with which June sends Iris tc shorten her sllfferin]. The dying

Camilla is assested by her fellow-in-arms before Diana carries

her off .~·Je hear of AeneaE' compassion for Palinurus and of

Nisus sacrificing h~self for Euryalus. Likewise, the battle

deaths of Pallas and Lausus are relieved through Aeneas'

5

mourning. Turnus and Mezentius die alone but with thoughts

11 of those they love. This is the kind of death which Aeneas

prays for, clearly demonstrating his close ties with the dead

comrades of his old home.

with the calm, Aeneas reverses his mood and tries to en-

courage his companions. Moreover, if his first words show his

"pietas", his comfortinq acc1ress to his "socii" reveals still

another fundamental feature of his character - his "magnitudo

animi.,,12

Book I (198) 0 socii (neque en~ ignari sumus ante ma1orum), o passi graviora, dabit deus his quoque finem. vos et Scy11aeam rabiem penitusque sonantis accestis scopulos, vos et Cyclopia saxa expertis revocate animos maestumque timorem mittite; forsan et haec olim rneminisse juva.blt. per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum tendimus in Latium, sedes ubi fata quietas ostenduntr i11ic fas regna resurgere Troiae. durate, et vosmet rebus servate secundis.

Now he pictures himself loo~ing back at the perils of the

past, now he more or less accepts his mission and fate; now he

13 welcomes danger as a challenge rather than a cause of despair.

But, little does he know that the real IIstormfl lies ahead - one

that is psychological rather than physical. For though Book I

alreacy reveals Dido as the "alter ego" of Aeneas, as one who

also has foiled the crime of the past by founding a city of the

future, and one who likewise has an object of II p ietas", Aeneas

suspects nothing of the tragedy to ensue in Book IV.

6

The second book with which the narrative of the fall of

Troy begins is the story of how F-€~neas came to leave his Trojan

"patria. It It is an account of the destruction of all that had

made life meaningful to him and its tellinq is itself - an

ordeal. "He appears as a man of memory and of inner vision.

In the extremi ty of death and sufferin':~, the ]rief burniu] in

his heart breaks out. His speech not only expresses his mortal

fear, but also serves to express his character. It allows one

14 a glimpse of his heart ano of a basic motif of the poem."

To the hero, Aeneas, the memory of Trey anc the hope for

Rome are holy obligations, and in their fulfillment he displays

··pietas" which is nothing else but doing his duty to gods,

country, ancestors and descendants. "Duty" here, however, is

not a response to the dictates of reason, but a response tc

love, and is without the harsh associations evoked by the word. illS

In his tale, Aeneas reveals that it was net easy at first

to persuade him that it was his destiny to abandon Troy for a

new "patria." The vision of Hector and Heeter's warning to flee

and carry off the "penates" had no effect upon him except to

arouse him from 31eep. But Venus forces him to face reality by

showing him the very gods at work in the destruction of Troy

and finally convinces her son that there is but one ccurse left

him, to rescue his father, wife an~ son. I6

To be sure, J'illchisps urges him tc I-eave anc; nt:ve Creusa

'7

and Ascanius ..

Book II (638) 'vos 0, quibu3 integer aevi san~Juis,' ait, • solidaeque ~uo stant rcbore vires, vos aAi tate fU0am.'

For thou'Jh, a:, he "-~aw, there wag some reason for the

youn<], the stron'.] and thE: fit to escape, there was none for

him. He was old and u~eless. The only ~ossible way to con-

vince l\nchises that he wa3 not desertin'l his "patria" was to

17 enlist his loyalty to a new one. The wonderful portent of

the blaze afire over Julus' head accomplished this and also

establishec PJlchis(;G, the weak old man, as the; vesr..;el of sal-

vation: and ~scanius, the innocent child, as the instrument of

18 prophecy.

The picture of Aeneas carrying Anchises on his shoulders

with :Ulchises holding in his hands the sacred household gods

ano hscanius ta,]ging alonq sice his father is appealinq, but

Creusa only follows behind and somehow gets lost along the way.

The symbolism here is clear. Not yet realizinq the significance

of this event, however, the loss of Creusa immediately compels'

Aeneas to leave Ascanius and Anchises and return in blind grief

and fury to the very centre of Troy and the micst of the bettIe.

Then Creusa's "flittin9 shace" appears to him and speaks:

BeoK II (776) quid tantum insane iuvat indul~ere dolor!, o dulci~:> coniunx? non haec sine numine divum eveniuntl nee te hine comitem asportare Creusam

8

fa s , aut ille sinit superi reqnator Olympi. lonqa tibi exsilia et vastum maris aequor arandum, et terram Hesperiam venies, ubi Lydius arva inter anima virum leni fluit cVJmine I"rhybris: illic res laetae reJnumque et re,]ia coniunx 9arta tibi: "lacrimas dilectae pelle Creusae. nc,n ego t-tyrmidonum sedes DolopumvE..: su:perbas aspicia~ aut Grais servit~~ matribus ibo, Dardanis et divae Veneris nlrUSi sed me majna deum :lenetri:: hi3 C'~tinet oris, ia~que vale et nati serva communis amorem.

v;ith these words II n o more tears," Creusa surrenders her

husband to a future she cannot share: she visualizes his

~lorious mission and the heritale of their son and alse pro-

pheciGs for ~_im a new and royal wife. Truly, this is indeed

a sacrificin<-J love: a resi'Jnation to fate an6 a 1I1e tting 'Jo"

of one so dear which is a teI:rible renunciation :-;ven in the

face of ceath.

Book II (792) ter conatus ibi collo dare bracchia circum: ter frustra comprensa manus e£fu::~·it ima~:ro,

nar levibus ventis volucrique simillirna scmnc.

Aeneas, on the other hanc., is wrouJ"ht \-lith grief under

this great ordeal. His fate is to sacrifice every present

enjoyment or satisfaction to an end he can never hope to

witness hims~lf. The emotional center of his whole life has

come to a close with the c1estruction cf Troy. 'rhE curtain

has been drawn, and anew, unknown and even creaded ,:;cal awaits.

Uncertainty, noubt and the sense of an=;n r"1 e~ s quest for

an elusive goal constitutes the peculiar atmosphere of Book III.

The weariness and soul-searching which Aen3as must under~.Jo is,

in some respects, more horrible than even the com~rehensible

emotional fear of inunediate dangers such as the Harpies,

Polyphemus, Scylla and Charybdis. But therein lies the main

interest in the terrors of the journey - th2 d?e~ening sriritual

sorrOVl which Peneas feels as he b8'Jin8 more and mOTe to realize

~ • :! f "t.... • • 19 tne lmpcrtance ana greatness 0 Ll1S mlSGlon.

In Book III Aeneas and Anchises piously placate the rest-

less spirit of polydoru8 by burial rites; and ~eneas once more

displays his compassion when he encounte.::-.j .~J1dromache at the

waters of a second Simois sacrificing to an "emptyll grave of

20 Hector. But the main tragedy of the third beok is the death

of Aeneas t lovin{] father, the symbol of his conscience, his

duty, his . 21

"p~etas." Aeneas Jrieves in this hour of desolation

and peril. Because now he is truly left alone to confront the

horrors of his elusive and terrible journey.

Book III (708)

'hic pelagi tot tempestatibus actus heu, genitorem, omnis curae casusque )~evamen, amitto Anchi<:;en, hic me, ~ater optime, fessum (leseris, heu, tantis nequiquCL.u erer·te rerielis! nee vates Helenus, cum multa horrenc1a mcneret, hos mihi rraedixit luctus, non dira Celaeno. hie labor f3'xtremus, lonqarum haec meta viarum. hinc me ciJressurn vestris deus appulit oris.'

As Norman Dewitt once wrote: IiPersonal sufferin,:! has

begun to furnish a key to the mysteries of the life of man •••

The rresent ~inds itself reflected in the "2 pa::;t. II'

Book II! concluc'er~ \>"rith the death cf J~nchis~s.. Heok IV

takes u~: the action where it was left a·t the clo3(2 of th(~

first book. Now the theme of feminine attraction which was

only hinted at in Homt:;r's Caly:)so, Circe, i.'.nd ;:-:Tausicaa, is

1 ... . .:3 • th f . '""... 2 3 e~evatea 1nto tra]e~y In e. 19ure OL D1CC.

liThe love of Dido and Aeneas is prepared with ·]reat

psychological insi~ht and told with great delicacy: both are

widowed exiles yearninj to strike new roots. '11e are quite

ready to believe that they would fall in .Love without the

elaborate substitution of Cupid for iiscanius. The consummation

of the love, Aeneas' divinely directed desertion, Didors con-

fidence to her ~ister Imna, and her suicide are told in the

highly dramatic :book IV.,,24

Poschl states; "In the ~- . -"" .. ene~d , as in most tra7edies,

everything aims toward the traljic end from the start so that

nothing else can be expected.,,25 Upon Dido's first entrance,

the distant future is shown as already touched with tragecy.

The stage is set. Dido and ~~eneas unknowin'jly nlay into the

hands of fate. It is interestin] to note here that Venus'

blin~ affection for Aeneas causes the nassion in Dido that

coulo have had such disa~trous cr;nB':~t:Tl1pnC'es for h·c':lr 26 son.

11

Ditc G~)eakin:r to her sister at the b~'1innin'J of the bC('Ik,

re~ists the love she ~0cls fer Aen~as bec~une of hpr "pi~tas"

tc her {" ar-" husban(: 0 ShF ~clrmnly exclaiMs:

Beck IV (20) Anna, fatcbcr cnim, miseri peRt fata Sychaei conju(~- is et srarscs :':ratcrna ca(-:c1r ~cnatis solus hie infl('}:i t sensus animun1r:uE' labantem imnul it. a:-ncsrc v(~teri r, vEsticria flammae, ,c:ed mihi vel tellus ('";ptem ~rius ima c1c'hiscat ""',1 ::;,ate~: cEni~,c,t:--:r:'-'"; abi"rat m('" ~-ulminc a(1 tlmb:~a~,

~allentis umbra-'"! Erebc ncrtcMC1ue rr('fundam, ante, Ftlt::'cr, 0uaM tc viole aut tua iura rp~olv('", ille mees, primus aui me sibi iunxit, amcres abstulit: ille habcnt ,secum sPt'vetrru2 sepulcrc.

tc ("ontrcl.. But II }-\nna i;'~ net the i.ascivic-us insinuator fe-nne!

in the ,~,ttic drama. [al'~ is net the Eurir ir'i"an nurse, nc

Menandrian concid<:!nt". Her first \-lords 2l.r~ those cf a tender

lovina sister: 0 luc~ maris dilecti Bor('ri .•. She en'Tenders

the irh:,;a in Dido t s al reacy lev in-~; heart that the exposed k in idem

27 grcatne3S of eartha' TO. n

Bock IV (47) quam tu urbem, soror, hane cernes, quae surgere reqna coniuqo tali! TGucrum comitantibu'1 armis Punica se c;uantis attcllet tJloria rebus ~

The convc-raation witb ,?',nna releases the .:ull fcrc,~ 01.': feelin'J

in Dido' s enamcr.~d heart, l\nd she "drinks drau-rhts c f 1 eve"

enchained by thE" ?ver-ti ~~hteninJ bonds of love \\'"hich arr: soon

tc en:?nare her. "Little }\'3canius", the first object of h.;:·r

1:'

affection, strengthens the affection and desire which is burning

in her £c~ him an~ throu~h him - his father.

Juno's jealous lcve for CartIlage Clnc1 "enus' everly ccnCE.rn

drive .':-leneas and Didc to deepen their relationshir by a complete

consununation of their love in the ecstati_c an(l ~assionate

embrace of sexual r leasure; a fa.ct \iv'hich cnly intensifies the

tragec:'y to ccmc:... ?o:r :;con Z\eneas come:3 t.c rpcilizt7' that he must

renounce this ::rohibiteci love though 'h'ith rainful resignation.

"He says in effect: 'I cannot possibly say all that is in me

to say. I can never repay you. I shall never, nc:ver forget

you. In brief, I can o::ly ::lea~ as excu::---;e (1) trat I never

undertook or promised marria(Je with you, (2) that if I had had

my Ovn:1 way, I would have stoppec at Troy anc~ rebui 1 tit. But

p .. pol10 and the fates sen(:t me on to Italy: t.hat is no,o.] my only

possible ·patria'. If you have your O\o\'n city, why cannot I

have mine: I too have th,~= right to see}\: a hc:ne bE>yonc the seas.

Further, I cannot stay: my father haunts me in my dreams, my

boy Ascanius is being deprived of his ri'Jhts i finally Jupiter

has warned me by his O'wn messenger. I sa",y the 'led himself in

the ~'")lain liJht of day! 1 heo.rd the very vGi':"e! Don' t then de­

tain me any lon]er. It is not by choice t'hat I ]'0 to Italy. i

There is nothing in this '3peech that is not technically correct.

But it is delivered to onn who has nc U(.1e for t<?rhnicalities. 1I28

Fer the greater the love known, the jr(-::':ater the emptiness;

th2 ;rcat~r the ~nptiness, the great8r the ne?f to love ajain.

loneliness but. also c~i~;illusionment and disaFPcintment. No

wores can express th2 :-.ain of too much t.~nCr:rn:;:ss or tht~ wound

of one' s own un;~erstandin; of 10v8 }>2inJ c1'~~3tTCy::::.d. The lover IS

wi:3h is II let this ni]t1t n:::ver 29 end. !! Cr ... =::'::; Horace puts

B .. I (13) OOK _

felices ter et amplius quos irrupta ten~copula nec malis divulsus queri~ncniis suprema citiu3 solvet amor (~ie.

it:

. ;' . Old cl~ches l~ke - "It is better to llave lCVE:c~ and lost,

than never to have loved at all. H - offer no consolation to a

(ODES)

soul distrautJht wi th heartbreak. ;1\ sensitive lC'Ie is the ver:y

life of life, for yestGrday t s love is alre~1.cJ.' a dream, and

tomorrow can only be a vision of hope. Only in mutual love is

there a sense of feel ins, of satisfaction. Unrequite~ love soon

becomes a burden and the only real escape from such rresent

30 suffering is the path of death. The queen's pride, sel£-

respect, her sense of ci~nity, and thirst for revenge all demand

her death. The very character of Dice ~erJ.an(=s that she not seek

6eath because of lost love, but becaU3e of the consciousness of

her ceeD fall.31

The rendulum of her fate has s\v'un:J fx'om the

faith and honer that she cnce hel~ for her de2( husband to the

shame cf her lust; from the rroud {lignity anti royal srlenocr

the deepest ;~acnecs, from warn: hw.:lunity te; cruel J:.a.tre(~, from

royal dili:jence to nEjlect of her duty, ircrn the near-completion

of a great kin]com to its utter . 32

cestl-:,uctlc:n. The immensity of

\li~ieta3", flmaiGsta;3'~, and !!cign.itas ll tc the :;uilt ~he feels

towaro hel: husband, her mission, her rer:u·tation and her pecr1e.

The vacillation between love and hate, union and clestruc-

tion dominates the whole narrative. Didc trie2 three times to

al ter fate: once when imF-·lcr in; .:\.eneas tc stay, ancther by

i~nna' s entreaties, ana then in the monclc:)"ue c.E the last tortured

night before his c"1eparture when she consicers the ]:cssibilit~, of

11 ' b 33 fo ow~ng her elovcc. "Every check she ~:nccunters leads her

back to the death decision. The threat of self-cestructicn and

the funeral f;yre follows thE: rebuff of t:nna' s entreaties. The

resolution 'to die as you deserve' replaces the thought of

. 34 accompanyl.ng the hero.

Death is thE only ansv.ter as nothin:; can Cjave l:er cwn ego,

sel:E-resr-ect, ane: her rrominent ,:Ilcry. Death rrcvioe:::: not only

the escape from her sufi€;ring anc: a (~E'llverance f:com unbearable

Fain, but alsc a self-im;' cseC atcncmcnt and tr,c rz~::titution of

15

the·ttgreat image" which she wanted to leave to posterity.35

"Thus dies Dic10 on her love bc~d placed on the pyre, with

the sword of Aeneas in her heart, a majestic rrueen, acknowledg-

36 inC] the unbreakable bona of love even in the act of dyin,J ....

Once a·Jain she is a queen as in the berJinnin'1 - ;-rreater and

more qlorious than ever . liOn the whole, th0 contrast between

. heneas's coolness and Dido's ardor is the criJinal tragic

37 contract between man anG woman. II

Dido's experience is destiny willed by divine forces, an

event of world history, and a link in the chain of Roman "fata."

Besides destroying her own existence, it also produces ruin far

beyond her personal fate by putting an end tc the existence of

carthaqe which she symbolizes. 38 When Dido, upon being refused,

hurls her curse at the hero, she nnwi ttin']ly alsc forecasts the

bitter enmity between Carthage and R0me.

Book IV (621) 'haec rrecor, hanc vocem extremam cum sanGuine funcc. tum vos, 0 Tyrii, stirpem et:Jenus crone futurum exercete odiis, cinerique haec mittitc nostro munera. nullus amor populis nec foedera sunto. exoriare aliquis nostris ex essibus ulter, qui face Dardanios £erroque sequare colonos nunc, olim, quocmnque dabunt se tempore vires. litora litoribus contraria, fluctihus undas imprecor, arma annis; pugnent ipsiqu€ nepotesque.

Aeneas, on the other hand, sees that he has been false to

his father, his mission, his men and especially to the destiny

of his young son. Thereby his contrition is prob~jly very sincere.

Dido is a tragic heroine, while Aeneas remains a hero of duty.

16

For while the carthaginian queen violates her duty, Aeneas

remains faith:cul to his, even thoush he does forqet it

temporarily. The real tra-Jedy of Book IV, in the last

analysis, is the transforrn.ation of so 9reat a love into a

bitter and unrelenting hatred.

The descriptive scenes in Book V are a refr0shinq break

from the calamity which has just occurred. But even here,

there is an undertone cf forebodinq in the present joy and

gaiety of the funeral games.

The book begins with Aeneas out at sea iJlancing back toward

the flames of Dido's pyre. He, at this stage of the plot, only

suspects the truth and certainly has no idea of the depth and

extent of Dido's tragedy_ Next folJ_ows the interlude of a relaxed

atmosphere, a simple memorial on the anniversary 0f2\nchises'

death. Then come the james whose playful surrounoinJs symbolize

the background of bloody wars to come. The fact that <Juring the

course of the games the sacrifice is never actually forced to

the point of the destruction of human life is what separates

the games from the principal narrative of the Aeneid, where death ~,..,

is the constant tra'1ic condition . ..):: The irony cf the contests

is enhanced by the youthfulness and discipline cf the participants,

a parody of the actualities of war which are to fol1ow. 40

The foot-race, especially, which is ~('minat~(l bV the

affection of Nisu3 for Euryalus, althoulh a de1i-'-htful ricture,

17

cannct but arouse melancholx thcuJhts cf their tra;€:cy tc,

They aX'E; E3nclc:'scc: wi.thin the y,C't 1<.1 cf ri t uc.jJ \'.h.ich tar 0':3 the

stcry (.)ut of the violen2€: of life and then, (;nce n'tcrG, leads

back to it. 1,41

}~crecver I the ccath cf ralipnru~: ir. t};( stlu~e cf the book

i'-.. eneas can h" 42 continue- (:It .1. EJ Journey. Palinurus is the

sacrifice that assures Aeneas' safe arrival at the gate of

.:..vernus • In ancther :3ensc:, ~aJ,inurus' c~C'ath s:t·.Jl1i fies tbat:

.I.\.cneas I long ocean vc~{a; e has r-2acheo it~; Jca 1 i thr.:' faith ful

helmsman is no 43

longer n0ec"ect.

The theme of reath an(~ resurrection is th(~: ~ocus in Book

his father, learn the su]::;,.:;;equent histcry c[

i'~i1 the city his descendant::.; will cstabli:-::h •. ' l:

, . .l.11.S race and of

The heartbreakin] fatherly love c£ Dae(~alus for Icarus,

which is depicted in the be':Jinnin(~ of this book, seems to re-

flect /\eneas' lonjin9 to meet his c'wn father a'Jain.45

Both are

e:;:amples of the de';;". If':-ietas" tha.t binds tc_~,-,thr:;:- t.hese who

46 2re separated.

There a~c tW(; condi tions for SUCC2S:..:; in thi:: orc~cul which

.·' .. (?'11·2uS is about tc un".l:_'·~ctak('~, life

18

i:' fatec" can rluck~ anC' thE' Itriacula" (sccrifice of black

cattle) that l~nea~ mu~t r~rfcrm fer hip ccmra~~ Mi~enus

This b~in::r

Thi~ i~ rf-'a 1 1v mllch 1i¥-c thE' rre?Jn

v!or'.fI c·f the thi!"("' book:

48 CDp R~rum Natura)

Book III (87) nam veluti nueri trey:,idant atque omnia caecis in tenebri~.! metuunt, ~i(" no'~ in 1 ur'~' t:imemu'~

interdum, nihilo qua~ sunt metuenda Inacris quam quae -!\.1pri<; in t~nebri~ '--,avitant fin-runtque futura.

:3uffcring and atonernent of the ~orrowful <~oul'~ condemnec to

eternal -erdition.

of the younJ anr unburied dea(~ and is "tY··'tCK rumb" by the

-=-t';;rn law of the underworlr:t:

Bock "{II (331)

47

constitit Anchisa satus et vestigia pressit multa putans sortemque animo miseratUB iniquam.

Then unbelievin'Jly he comes ur'on the flitting soul cf

Dirlo hiclinc; in thf:l shadows.

Bcok VI (456) 'infelix Dicic, verus mihi nuntius erJo venerat e>,~stinctam ferroque extrema secutam? funeris heu tibi causa iui? per sidera jura, Fer sup0rcs et si cua fi{)es tellure sub irna est, invitu5, reqina. tuc de litorf' cessi. sed me jussa deum, quae nunc has ire per umbras, ~)er loca senta situ cC'Junt noctE'mqUt~ profundam, imperiis elIere suis: nee credere quivi hunc tantum tibi me disc€s~u ferre dolorem siste rJraoum teque aspectu ne subtrahe nostro quem £ugis~) extremurn fato quod te adloquor hoc est"

These words as well as his tears convey the feelinqs of a

man who cannot quite believe his own eyes nor accept the

sudden removal of doubt of what he has feared yet not known fer

~ ("-

sure. New fox' the first time he xealizes what he had done.

He trios to ~'!>xplain but tc nc avail. Dice; withdraws back into

the arms of her first and reas~n':j:in'1 lover with \-them she has

been forever rejoined. .cneas can c;nly follow with weepin'l

eyes: the enccunter is brief because she ~li 11 not let it be

50 prolon .. :;ed.

Finally, Aeneas meets his father Anchises who burst out

with joy:

Book VI (687) venisti tandem, tuaque exspectata parenti vicit iter durum pietas? datur ora tueri,

nate, tua et notas audire et reddere voces? sic equidern ducebam animo rebarque futurum tampora dinumerans, nee me mea cura fefellit. quas e'Jo te terras et quanta per aequcra vectum accipio! quantis jactatum, nate, periclis! quam mctui ne quid Libyae tibi rC'Jna nccerent!'

20

In his revelation , which is the turninC] pcint of all the

uncertainty that precedes it, Anchises points toward a new and

glorious future - the empire that was to be Rcme. But likewise

in his prophecy, he unfolds the dismal realization that the

51 traqedies that happen in the past will happen eternally.

Virgil's poem is net life, hut therein lies its value, for it

reveals the tragedy of life and in this sombre tale we may

find something of our own tragedy, the sadness cf human exist-

ence. 52

Book VII (43) maior rerum mihi nascitur ordo, maius opus moveo.

This is the theme which sets the stage for the second half

of the book - the Iliadic ~,eneid.. Frcm now on Aen0as is no

longer engaged in an inner conflict or strug31e, but in a great

war with tangible human opponents.

nThe description of the bloody battles of the last third

of th2 poem raises a question of how virl]il cculd manage a task

seemingly so forGiqn to his artistic sensibilities and, Eor that

matter, to his whole personality. The unsentimental, harsh

realism of the killing and fighting in the Iliad is the sphere

21

in which Homer {~iver 'yes thp most from the concept cf Classical

art as {:irc:ct,~-:;c. tc\v·urc. ajoal of harmonious beauty.. yet, after

all, realisrn is necessary as 'materia 'J'lcriac' for l' .. eneas and

as sytrJ)ol cf the }-)loocy history c;: Rom€'. The horror:: of 'Vlar

had to be sho\\1Jl. The extent of the suf£<srinq and the ;~·ow(:.~r of

the passions in this dimension of life had to be sho\vn also so

that the stren':rth and Tlcry of Rom.e mi:Jht shine all the more in

juxtaposition ..

Over and above 1-,' ulS ~elicacy and tenderness, Virgil was a

Roman. In f~cn(:~as I hard heroi 3m and hu .. 'l1ani ty, un.""J<2nc; ins f innness

is tempered with mildncss~ Dido alternates 1:;'2tw(~en harsh pride

and (jlowin'j abanc30ni J1Cil'd and sort trait~; are ev(::nly (Sistribl.lted

throu(]hout the vlhole pcem. ,,53

In the Ilia( ic 2\E~neid, l\enea~~' nw:'tani ty is never exercised

at the Gyy::ense 0.( his "pietas" II He Zi:jht::: well cecause: he: feels

it is his fluty, yet 11.0 fights witJlcut the '.riO!J?nce a.:--;(=i C"iJ~.idity

t::Ll that makes war an cncl in it sel f . - .

The war i~.:; a terrible war. .Yet even sc vixc:il pel.-trays the

roc;

enemies of ;:\.eneas as !:Jeople teo. _.J 'The pcet presents Turnus as

demoniacal, but not evil. 'l'urnus fiql"ts for Italy, fer Lavinia and

for what he believes to be his birthri .Jht. .liore again is an

ex amp 1 e of "toe nuel'! lcvin:~. Ii It is 2·v-ic~c:nt thuc ~2.r that what-

ever Vir:!il 't>t7ishes to 1 c'rtray - v;a.r, ·,eace, love, 1:2tc .... the

human sympathy and tenderness of his ap.peal to the y:crlC' is

'16 all his cwn.

sac:r:i.clCE: •

~n

l!dllo.3.

58

ll.i..o y'. Ul. .. ,

r~ 7

2

The

u.~ .~ .L.ll i.n.;.; ;1<. ::: c 1 €'

rinq

(vice

( 5L.-585)

l,· lQ.~/ " ~~mction

l I, dL 1.'~ i:3 i rJ3 c ed

j.n Beok

i

Book IX (390) 'EuryalE~ infelix, mta te re~icne reliqui? quave ::Jcquar:"

23

rc!')laced by the more ~h:'cadful foar of losin; hL'1l in death:

Book LX (425) conclamat N'iBU~l n-::'c ~e cela!:"!:~ te::n,~'bri:s

amplius aut tn.ntllii.1 ::otuit ~)Gr ~~Crl"2 (lclcr'·:""ni.

':ne,me,adstL""n qui feci, in me ccn'\"crtite ferr-um, o Rutuli! l11ca C.r'::'U3 omnis, nihil i::;t~:: nee ~usus nee potuit: caelurn hoc et conscia sid~ra tc,:;tcr': - tantUnl infeliccm nimium di10xit amicum.

The poet in these few lines describos the Christian ideal

0: sel f-sacrifice for on:':' s fellcw man. H,2Y'(> a :rain is the

recurr in:] th~r3e Clf t tC)O much lovin-J.' T11s is alsc emphasized

in the hardships of a rncthcr' s so;rro ..... l'. ,;\ r:1othc~r' s love which

of its V0!:y nature: c"'(:-!rnan'~~ sacrifice and '7ain:

Bco'}: IX (: ['1) I hunc E:'JC te, Euryale, aspicio'~} tunE: ille senectac sera u·~?ac r ...;:::;uies, ;:,c tuisti 1. inqu~':~:' ~:-:(';lam crude lis?

and Aeneas. Beth hu-zt thos~ they cherish nlC3t -.. it is these

who love us who are most sensitive and c-c:nccrned fer cur welfare.

But one does EO because' C1: his rash tcldncGs, the ether because

c f hi s devcticn t~(. a hi :/h~r ncral i ty .

In the next Leok, j encas returns "'-:rorr~ hi~ mission tc ~cnn

alliances, and all but wins the war. T}~is ::!"cat rev8rsal of

"nictas" towarc raJ las, v::1cm Tu::.:-nus hQ~ pc: c):"u:l1y '"31ain ..

hi tterness of viar: l,::nc'o.th ~cneas I -or i:: -;: fer Pa llas flashes

a _.i.. S Z:. t C 1- t r a; c ( y ( r . .;:~-! i ':"' h hi;: f!" i en c'::: r"': (" a t h i f' C n 1 yen .'='

60 instance zyrlJ:c li~ir,? t.t~~" ~(n-r '--'rcc?~~:icn ( ;: ("':"0.(' to fC<!.lcw him.

6] In a broad

But th2 strin15

this sui~idal match.

Bce};. ~',. (811) I quo mo!:"i ture r.lis maicraque viribus audes',? fall itt ~ inc au t 11m ;-: i eta s t ua A •

LaU3US, of ccursG., ':rcsses on and !~neas is new forced to

fiJht. yet \-Y'l1en he' turr.s tc look at 'his ".rictim· s hody, u!'ale

in d~ath,~ his anger m01ts into c0mpassicn.

Book X (821) at vel-C' ut V".ll tum vici t me rientis r-;t ('ra, ora mo~ig '~chisia~es ral1antia miris, in]cmuit miz~'!"ans:raviter ("f.::xtrzrr.qu£ t"7tencit I et m!:.ntern .... atr iac <n,biit pi~tati s i..'no·jC'"

25

( ,; -; ~) ' •• f 4;.-~ __ I

• ,!uic til>i nunc, r,~~i:>:;ran(~,,:; ~-,uc:r, :'-J:"c laudi}::>us, istis, '·luiu ~)iu:;: .-,::nC'.:~ t~~'lt.:<- c1 c:J.: it indol C: c:i inure.: arma, c,'ui;)u~ 1(;, tZl,tus, hab·.:c t';la; t.;,::>J'U~~ ~::-,arc:ntum

::t~nibu::~ ct CinCl"i,3i ;:~ua cst ea cura, rernitto .. hoc ta.-aen infcli misc·:rn.::'\1 ~~o1w~er0 nc'rt\:"m: ],·~:'n'~a~ ma .. ;~li c:::~~t-r'a "'2.(':_1

M~z~ntius hin~cl ~,

ace '>ts

,-.." a.:-,) this

~;2 '\,,,i llin ,::'y , ,_ . ceu}: ;;::;0, C ,:.nnot

Once m(rc

(B1,.-, 'v'r 1-(";0) ~ .. , .. \. - .,- and Evanl.~e:=-· s mcurnin 1 fer his bclcvec1 son, a

Beok XI (148) at non Evandru.'U "'ctis est vis ulla t€ncrc, sed venit in nQ~ics. fcrctrc Pallante rC~c3to procubui t GUFer ~tque hacrct lacl: imansque 'jemensque ...

II Nc :~;OW81~ coule: hclc him back," ju~t as nc cxpre3sion can

~~Fly describe his inconsolable woe.

26

The story now brings us to Camilla - whose romantic up-

bringing in the wilds introduces her as a true child of nature.

"She is at once simple and terrible, naive and ferocious. Her

easy deception by Arruns' son and her fierce revenge upon him,

illustrate admirably the two sides of her nature. Her self-

confidence, her defiant exposure of the breast, her rusticity,

her 'cupido caedis', her feminity - all combine to make her an

easy prey for the sly Arruns. But in defeat she is utterly

self-forgetful, concerned only for Turnus and the war. Her

faults are clearly less than those of her leader - her death

once more brings out his responsibility for such useless sacri-

fice of noble life. Virgil, as clearly as he knew how, has

shown the tragedy of 'civil' war and the 'humanitas' that looks

beyond the battle lines to peace.,,64

The previous scenes of passionate involvement in the last

half of the book all lead up to the death of Turnus in the final

episode of the epic. Even though Turnus is an enemy and the last

opposition which Aeneas must overcome in order to fulfill his

mission, Virgil still portrays h~ as a man of heroic nobility.

For it is just through the wiles of Allecto that he falls prey

65 to the forces of Hell. Turnus and Dido are both tragic figures.

Both have fallen into tragic guilt by divine interference1 both

are filled with a love of glory that lends grandeur to their

27

catastrophes with \-lhich they are cau,]ht up in a .fatal passion. 66

of law - all thcs,~ distinruish -\eneas fl:'om Turnus and are the

0'7 n'2cessary consequencE' of a hiJ'her morality'. '

to"rarc hi s fatr: ~~r Dau;;.u~~::

BooJ~ XII (<:'31) 'eouidem merui np(", aepre("or' incruit7 • uterc '30~Ct0 tua. I-::liseri te '3} CJua :'ar''\nt.i;~

tangere cu~a potest, oro (fuit et tibi talis ~nchises ~cnitor' Dauni miserere .~en2ctae et me, seu ccrpus spcliatnm lUI!line mavis, r(~dde meis. vicisti :?t victum tende=~c:-'al.mas Ausonii viderc; tua est Lavinia coniun:z, ulterius ne tendo odiis .. "

l,ast crimE'~ it 'V-.7ClS t.CO late for TU~"nt1::) to !C"cf"ivc- nercy, he who had

shown no mercy to Pallas. MC'rcover, ,'eneas, as PalTas' tiestined

aven'Jer I had an oblif]ation that Jreatly cver:::;hanO\,led any "human-

itas n he might wish to show to\vard his beaten foe. 68 ~']ith Turnus'

death, the union of two peo['lE:s and th(~ Eounc'1aticn of Rc'me was

established.

Vir(Jil's story has enc1<?(~, hut it~ lc~·~]end liv~-; ()n. HG had

created an 'ideoloqy' of an empire, the insriraticn cf his

28

goal of all historical activity and was the only hope of peace,

social order, and humane behavior associated with strong

69 government.

But that is only one aspect of the Aeneid and of virgil.

He also envisioned the ideal Roman endowed with the Reman card-

ina1 virtues of "pietas", "humanitas", and "magnitudo animi"

- all expressions different degrees of love. "He prefigured

the Christian hero, whose heart remains gentle thI:ough struggle

and sorrow and beats in secret sympathy with all suffering

creatures. 70 This is a direct parallel to Posch1's statement:

"The grief that Aeneas bears and conquers is, I repeat, less

sorrow for his own loss or denied happiness than sympathy and

compassion for others who must suffer bitterly for the sake of

the command laid on him by destiny~7l

However, perhaps the most remarkable fact about the poem

72 is its treatment of the victims. There are tears for Dido,

for Nisus and Eurya1us, for Camilla, for Mezentius and Turnus -

all these who must pay the penalty for their excesses. There

are also tears for Pallas, Lausus, Evander - all who are examples

of a much higher order of self-sacrifice. They must also die~

Aeneas is the hero because he looks beyond such tragedy to a

peace that somehow may overcome it - a peace of harmony, human

understanding, love. 73

29

"The words of Dehmel: tto be a poet means to embrace

the world in love and lift it up tc Goa; apply to Virgil

more than to anyone else." If poetry is love, then the

c~tmID is the epic cf love.

FOOTNOTES

* Some scholars prefer to snell it VER3IL

+ 1\11 Latin quotes are taken f1~0m Hutzel, FrederiC'u'~

Verqili Opera. Cxonii: ~ Typoqtapheo ClarE'nc1oniano, 1?t53.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

~\11 ~n"Jlish translation a:e taken ~ }\~TEID ..QE. VIRGIL.. Ne",,~ Ycr1::~

Inc~, Garden city, 1°53.

from Lewis, Dcublec1ay &.

C .. I D.

Poschl, Viktor.. The lU't of Vir-iiI. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1962, P. 15.

Mayor, J. B .. , W. \'1'. Fowler, & R. s. Ccnway. Vir'jil' s Messianic Ecloque. London: John Murray, Albemarle street, 1957, p.35.

Poach!, p. 3.

Musurillo, S. J. Symbol ~~ in ~ncient Poet~. New york: FodhaTfL university Press, 1 0 63, p .. 126.

Ibid. , p. 125

Ibid. , p. 124

Otis, Brooke. Oxford:

Vir;jil: ::. 3tud~7 in Civilized POE':try ~ Clarendon Press, 1~63. p. 217.

Hadas, ,Moses. ~ Historx of Latin Lit:2'rature. Ne\\' Ycrk: Columbia University Press, 1~52, p. 155.

Had a;3 , MO S <:; ,c; , ::-'. 15 .5 •

Poschl, p. Til ~-:t.

Ibid. , D .. 34.

Ibid. , p .. 41

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23.

24

25

26

27

28

30

otis, p. 232.

Poschl, 35. r, 1'0..' •

Ibid .. , 'V, /~:) . ' ,: .

otis, r· 243.

otis, , .. 245 •

Ibid. , p. 249

Poschl, p. 26

otis, t='. 260

Ii) i c1 .., l.. 25 2

DeWitt, Norman Wa Vir;rilfs Bioqranhia Littera::ia" Tcrcntc: 1923. p, 127

Poschl, (~ til 27 .

Hadas, p. 157

Poschl, , . 71.

otis, p. 76.

Poschl, ,,-'. 76.

ot is, i:' • 25 G •

Poschl, '_'. 76

Putnam, Michael C. J.. Th8 poetry of the '\~-::nid, Ca~hrir=: -re: Harvard University Press, lS65, F. 170

31 Poschl, p. 86.

32 Ibid ~ , :: . 77 ..

33 Ibid. I p. 86.

34 Ibic:. , 1- . 8G.

35 Ibic1. ,~ 85 .. ,

36 11?li. J F' . Rr, ,',

37 Ibid. , r> • 47.

38 Ibid" 71' .. ~, ,

3( Ibid" I '-- . 65 ..

40 Ibid. , p. 66.

41 Ibic .. , r .. 66.

/'~2 Ibi6 .. , i~ • -Tl I ......

43 otis, r· 281.

44 Putnam, r,

1- • .: 2.

Q·5 Poschl, r· 150.

46 Ibid .. , p .. 150.

47 peschl, 51. -.

'.- .

ot is, p .. 2 ~. 1

49 Ibid., p. 294.

50 Ibid., p. 294 ..

51 Musurillc, p. 121.

52 Ib i d .. , .,. ~ 1 21 .

53 poschl, P. 100.

54 at is, :. ' . 316 ~

55 Poschl, p. 94.

56 Mayor, 1;'. 40.

57 otis, F .. 340.

58 Ibid .. , p. 388.

5~\ Ibid. , 350. p.

60 Poschl, Y. SQ.

l,'" •

61 otis, p .. 515.

62 Ib id ., r. 360.

63 Ibid., c. 360.

64 Ibid., r;" 364.

65 Pesch'!, ' ...... 2.

Ibid .. , p, 137 ..

67 Ibid., p. 123.

68 ot ~ s , r . 380.

69 Ib id ., p • 38 S •

70 Poschl, r. 53.

71 Ib i d .. , r.. 5 :3 •

72 at i S,P. 3 S 1 •

73 Ibid., 1.

Poschl, t. 04 ..

75 otis, ,!",:,,, 394.

31 Posch!, p. 86.

32 Ibid 0

. .., 7 ~1 , I •

33 ~. , p. 86.

3l± 11.:' ic': .. I·

,-.. ,r-

# " 0;.~ •

35 -b· ~ ~~I ',~ 85 ..

3S

37 Ibid., t-'. 47.

38 . ~ I})~c:., ""'. -, I~ I· _

3(' Ibic1~ .. ~ 65 • I

40 Ibid. , .....

~. 66 •

41 1J?iS.. # r~ 66.

/: 2 Ibi'~,,, I

' . ""7'

J . / .L •

43 otis_ I . 281.

44 ~ Putnam, l' . 'I

I" e - .:....

~5 Poschl, J; .. 15~; .

46 Ibid .. , !:-' .. 150.

47 Poschl, ::1. ~

otis, r· 2~ 1

I "

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Carus, T. Lucretius. ~ Rerum Natura. Madison: The University cf Wisconsin Press, 1065.

Dewitt, Ncrman w. virril's Bic:Jranhia Litteraria. Toronto: 1("23.

Hac1as, Moses. j\ History cf Latin Lit2'raturt~. N~'t,~ Ycrk: Cclum.bia University Press, 1 '-'52.

Hutzel, Frecor icus j,. Vcr: -:ili Cosra 0 C~:cni:

E. Tyr·O";rapllec.' Clarenc1cnianc:, 1("S3.

Lewis, C. D. The j\eneid of Virqil. Nev:" Yc'r},: Dcubleday & Company, Inc., Garc:cn City, 1"53.

MayoX", J. B., v·,i .. ~'J. Fcwlc?:, & R. s. Conway_ Vir:lil' s Messianic Eclogue. Lcndcn: Jchn Murray, Albemarle street, IrS7.

MU3urillo, S. J. sy-ml·el & Mvth in,nciE-nt Pcptry .. ~------ -~ -- -------- ------~

New York: Fcrdham University Press, 1('61,

otis, Brocke. Virqil: T. Study in Civi.li7.e6 Poetry C;:ford: Clar~n{cn Press, 1(63.

Pa)e, T.. E. Odt:~; c:' He.:;: 2C~ ~ Lc nce n: r\'lac~lli 11 an & C( ~, Ltd. 1~.62.

Poschl, Viktor. The 4~_rt c f vir-::yil_ Anni\r1:x r: The University c f Mi chi] an P r £: S S I 1 r·~) 2 '

Putnam, Micha(-::;l C. J. ThE: Poetry C'.J.~ th~' : nClC.

Cambrid']E: Harvard UniV21-sity Pr,sss, 1~65.